Technicalities
by Pseudinymous
Summary: In which Technus tries to forcibly become the manager of an electronics shop.


**Author's Note:**

I don't know what I was thinking, but it probably wasn't thought with sanity in mind. Just a quick short story!

* * *

"S-see? Then y-you just press ' _sale_ ', a-and the order will go s-straight through."

Technus glared at the POS system, giving it the sort of staring down that was only appropriate for inferior technology. The register was so old that it could, indeed, barely be considered a register; it no longer locked at all after a transaction (even if you used the key), nor did it pop out after pressing _sale —_ you had to pull it out yourself. _You had to pull it out yourself!_ What cheek. What lack of charm! How could a high-tech hip-and-cool electronics shop be working with such… such _filth_?

"I, Technus, greatly disapprove of this deplorable excuse for modern technology!" he said. Anyone else would have called it shouting, but unfortunately for the windows and everyone around him, this was his Normal Voice. "Female Working Slave, how is it you have allowed yourself to become so inexorably tied to inferiority?!"

A few emotions ran over her face, battling endlessly behind her mouth and eyes over whether she wanted to take that insult to heart or just run. Instead, she opted for freezing. Technus, _MASTER OF TECHNOLOGY AND ALL THINGS ELECTRONIC AND BEEPING_ , didn't understand. Why was the Female Working Slave not replying to him? Could it have been she was so ashamed of her inferior barely-point-of-sale mechanical machine? Or perhaps was she — was she _proud_ of this atrocity, so proud that she might have taken insult to any attack upon it?

The situation could use some considerable thought. But Technus didn't see any way that someone couldn't be ashamed in such an embarrassing situation.

"Female Working Slave!" he began. The windows shuddered in their frames. "Today we shall procure a superiorly functioning point-of-sale electronical mechanical machine!"

She nodded, equally as mechanically as her POS system's struggle to do anything other than add two digits together.

"Now, you will show me to your world's point-of-sale mechanical machine hoard!"

More mechanical nodding. Technus didn't understand why she looked so utterly traumatised, as he wasn't even trying to be scary at this point — merely recommending some desperately needed upgrades. But this nodding soon stopped and turned into a distressed shake, and she nearly doubled over whilst trying to communicate anything at all.

"What?!" said Technus.

"I-I said-d that we d-don't have POS ssystemss here," said the Female Working Slave. "Sh-shop. Order f-from shop!"

"Is this not a shop dedicated to the latest in electronical and mechanical goods?"

"Well—"

"Well, then we should procure these futuristic, hip-and-cool POS systems for this futuristic, hip-and-cool shop!"

"Please," said the Female Working Slave, gathering some resolve. "Just let the manager out of the cupboard and go away!"

Technus wasn't going to have a bar of that, oh no! "That so-called _'manager_ '," he said, sneering, "did not even know how to combine inferior technologies together to create _superior_ technologies! He is not worthy of being called _manager_ of this great electronical establishment!"

"But it's not _yours_ ," she said, even more quietly.

"Possession should only be for those worthy of keeping such items!" Technus had both fists in the air, one of them waving about his electric staff in an eccentric manner, as the Female Working Slave ducked under it to avoid a four-thousand volt electric shock. Technus barely seemed to notice. "You will assist me to run this shop in a worthy and respectable manner!"

At that moment, a customer walked in, took one look at Technus, yelped, and walked back out very, very quickly. Neither Technus nor the assistant noticed.

"Yes," she said, in barely a whimper.

"This is most excellent!" said Technus. "Now, you will do as I say, and we will have the greatest electronics shop in all the lands!"


End file.
